


The Corpse Bard

by dragonightshade01



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corpse Bride (2005) Fusion, Dead Jaskier | Dandelion, Forced Marriage, I feel bad for what I have done to Jaskier, Julian Alfred Pankratz - Freeform, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonightshade01/pseuds/dragonightshade01
Summary: Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg. A politically charged, arranged marriage. Geralt hasn't even met her yet and he already knows that she'll get in the way of his work on the Path as a Witcher. But there is a little bit of an issue.Geralt, on his way to the forced marriage, comes across a man who looks like they are dead. The singing from the corpse -Corpse? Yes, corpse- is hauntingly beautiful. He's knocked out from behind and wakes up in the Land of the Dead where a groom corpse is caring for him, seemingly apologetic for what happened. This is just... great...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first actual attempt at a longer story. I'm gonna try to update every week and if not, then my anxiety is fucking with me.

The moon shines high in the sky, the glowing light shining through the leaves of a cherry tree. A man in wedding attire walks up to it, the moonlight making his expensive bright blue and white clothes gleam, gems and the jewelry given to him glittering as he moves. He’s humming to himself, bright cornflower blue eyes admiring his surroundings. His bright brown hair looks almost black in the night. The man leans on the tree, smiling to himself as he waits for someone. 

After around an hour, the man spots his groom, and smiles brightly at him. “Thought you stood me up my Lord.”

The new man, with short, slicked back, black hair, just looks at the happy man, face cold, expressionless. The Lord is in black clothes, more fit for a funeral than a secret wedding. “You won’t have to worry about that for much longer. You won’t be stood up anymore. You won’t have to wait for anything anymore.”

The groom looks at the Lord, confused. “What? What do you mean? I won’t have to wait for anything anymore? What does that even mean?” Confusion is all over his face, eyes bright and wide.

“Julian, I am afraid that you aren’t going to survive this night.”

“What?” Julian looks at the suddenly revealed knife, being pulled from the Lord’s jacket. He steps back a bit. “Wait, no, you don’t have to do this! Pleas- ah!” The Lord approaches him, knife shining maliciously in the moonlight, walking to the fallen man, having tripped over the roots of the cherry tree.

“Julian, why do you think I asked you to meet me here? Everyone will think you ran away from the wedding, leaving me at the altar.” The Lord puts a cruel boot on Julian’s chest, pushing him down with his full weight before stepping on his chest fully. Julian is laying there, having a hard time breathing from the 200 pounds of weight on his chest. “I intend to enjoy this.”

In horror, Julian watches as the Lord lifts his heel, somehow balancing on one foot on a rapidly moving chest, and slams it down. A loud CRACK is heard, Julian screaming in pain as a rib is broken by the man who claimed to love him. But then everyone he’s ever met in the royal court has abused him, some in more… despicable ways. He should’ve expected this…

A heel comes down again, making Julian scream, another CRACK sounding out. Julian is shaking, crying, trying to reach up to grab his leg to stop him. The Lord dodges the hands and slams his heel into his collarbone, breaking it harshly. Julian screams and tries to arch, but the weight on him keeps him down. 

Ignoring the pain, Julian pushes the Lord’s heel away from him, catching him off balance, making the Lord fall. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Julian backs away and staggers up, whimpering in pain, holding his hand to his broken collarbone. Julian starts to run, blinded by tears, into the forest, trying to hide. His dress shirt has dirt covered boot marks, his back dirtied with mud and decaying leaves.

“JULIAN!” Julian tenses and covers his mouth when that tensing makes his shoulder and ribs scream in pain. “JULIAN. WHERE ARE YOU?” Jaskier is trying to be silent, careful not to step on branches. 

“JULIAN. THERE YOU ARE!” Julian looks over his shoulder and sees the Lord looking at him, holding his knife in a death grip, starting to chase him. Julian screams and starts to run, uncaring if he breaks branches.

Julian yells in pain when the Lord grabs his hair and yanks him back, pinning him to a tree. “Okay sweetheart, that’s enough… running!” The Lord stabs Julian in the chest and rips it up, the knife nicking his broken collarbone, making Julian screech and cry in pain, sobbing. The Lord looks at the blood on his knife and looks at the blood pouring from Julian’s wound, smiling. “You wanna know something? Your blood looks black in the moonlight, just like the others.”

Julian is crying, tears spilling over, running down his cheeks. Julian yowls as the knife is stabbed into his side and twisted. “Such pretty sounds. Too bad your family arranged your marriage to me. Poor little Viscount of Lettenhove. Poor little Pankratz.” 

Julian is already getting woozy from blood loss, ignoring what the Lord is saying. Black dots dance over his vision, a cold feeling sinking into his bones. _This isn’t too bad… Almost a relief… everyone did hate me… even my own family…_

Julian slumps over on the Lord, watching the Lord lay him down. “Now… I have to bury you. I would’ve done it over by the cherry tree but you decided to run. You did this to yourself Julian. You could’ve stayed home, not come to see me before the wedding. But then you were always so naive. So trusting. Goodnight Julian. You will most likely go on to better pastures, have a better experience with the dead.”

Julian’s breathing is becoming slow, sluggish, his skin becoming pale, ghostly. He can faintly feel a hand running through his hair, brushing it out of his face. His eyes roll back, everything going black.


	2. A Voice In The Woods

_shink… shink… shink… shink…_

The repetitive sound relaxes Geralt as he sharpens his swords. He’s trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts. Why did he have to be the one to be married to a sorceress he didn’t even know? Eskel would’ve been a MUCH better choice. Unlike Geralt, Eskel isn't emotionally constipated. Plus, he's into girls like that, he did fuck that succubus. 

Why did it have to be him? Why did HE, of all Witchers, have to be married to a sorceress? What was her name? Yennefer of… Vengerberg? Yes, that was it. Yennefer of Vengerburg. She'd just get in the way of his work on the Path, Geralt can feel it. Oh goddess, what if she makes him play house? Give her a child? Oh hell no. 

_I sense there's something in the wind… that feels like tragedy's at hand…_

Geralt lifts his head up, stopping his sharpening. _What the hell was that?_ Geralt looks around, focusing all his energy on his ears to see if he can hear anything else. 

_Nothing… must've just been my imagination. Been alone for too long._ Geralt thinks, looking down at his sword, starting to sharpen it again. 

_And though I'd like to stand by him… I can't shake this feeling that I have…_

Geralt looks up again, ears ignoring the sounds of the forest. _What the fuck is going on? I know it's not just me now._ He looks at Roach and she looks back at him, having heard it too. Her ears are flicking back and forth, nervously nickering. She's moving nervously. 

"Hey hey, it's okay." Geralt gets up, walking to her, whispering to calm her. “I’ll go see what’s going on.” He gently pats her nose and grabs his silver sword. “I’ll be right back.” Roach grabs the back of his shirt, trying to keep him with her.

_The worst is just around the bend… and does he notice… my feelings for him?_

“Roach, Roach let me go, after I check out what’s going on, I’ll come back and we’ll pack up camp and move, okay?” Geralt is staring into the forest, eyes trying to see if there’s anything moving around in the forest behind the treeline. It’s either someone messing with them or a monster that can sound like a person. 

Roach, much to her dismay, releases Geralt’s shirt and steps back, trying to get as far away from the trees and that haunting singing as possible. “I know Roach, it’s unsettling.” Geralt holds his sword tightly, starting to walk into the forest.

_And will he see… how much he means to me? I think it’s not to be…_

A foreboding cold falls over Geralt, making his breath come out in puffs of white clouds. Witchers don’t feel the cold like humans, it needs to be intensely cold before he can feel it. But this… this is freezing. It’s not normal cold, it’s supernatural, something that sinks into his bones, his core. 

Geralt is cutting vines and branches on his way to the voice, definitely something based in the supernatural given that it’s fucking freezing and frost is slowly crawling up the trees, killing flowers and grass, making them wilt.

_Under a tree at quarter three, I had some hope in me... but life was taken from me and I did not feel peace…_

Geralt hesitates at the sight of a man in the middle of a clearing. The man is in wedding attire and if it was white before, it looks grey and dirty, fraying at some of the seams. He has a wedding veil on, the veil covering his eyes and his skin is a ghostly pale, almost blue with cold. While the man is wearing pants, it seems that there was a fluffy skirt sewn onto the outfit, a train laying on the ground. His right hand, while just bones, is holding up a wilted flower, and his body language appears to be sad.

The white haired Witcher feels his breath taken away in awe at this sight. A murdered groom-to-be, mourning his own death? The corpse groom moves his right leg somehow even though it is completely bone. He stands, looking at the sky.

“ _I made a vow within my gown that love will come to me... but then he-_ ” the beautiful corpse (wow Geralt? beautiful? he’s a corpse. dead. he’s not beautiful.) turns to look around and yelps, falling backwards onto his butt when he sees Geralt watching.

The corpse touches his head, adjusting his veil so Geralt doesn’t see his eyes. “Oh dear, how long have you been watching?” He gets up and chuckles, dusting himself off.

Geralt looks over him, nervous. “To be honest, not that long. I only came here to investigate what I was hearing. Beautiful voice by the way.” It’s only now that he’s facing Geralt, that it becomes apparent that on his left side, there is a piece ripped off his suit showing off his organs and ribs, his left arm has an entire chunk missing, down to bone, probably some wandering scavengers, there is fabric wrapped around his femur, and he has a massive slash up his chest starting just under where his shoulder is and then ripped up out of his shoulder.

“Oh...oh thank you! You know, I’ve always wanted to be a bard but being a Viscount of Lettenhove and being engaged to a lord kind of gets in the way.” The corpse claps his skin covered hand and his bone hand together, a smile gracing his ghostly pale features.

“So...what happened to you?” Geralt starts to walk to him, sheathing his silver blade. 

The corpse’s smile fades and he looks down. “I was murdered. Well, I’m sure you know that. It’s kinda obvious considering my appearance. Oh dear.” The corpse focuses on something behind Geralt and Geralt would say that the groom corpse pales at whatever he sees behind him, but he really doesn’t have any skin color now does he? 

Geralt goes to turn around to face what the corpse saw, only to be met with a sharp pain to his temple and darkness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Trickywi!
> 
> Song link here!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKXwHGlrJA4


	3. Getting Some Answers From a Corpse

Geralt wakes up with a groan, a cold hand on his forehead. A soft, vaguely familiar voice starts to tease him out of unconsciousness.

“Oh I do so hope he’s okay… humans don’t deal so well with hits to the head. Why did you have to do this?! I’m fine! Yes I like him, but not every person I talk to has to be dragged downstairs!”

 _Where am I? Am I… cold? Why am I cold?_ Geralt opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Everything is dark, only candles lighting the room. Geralt is lucky he can see with his Witcher enhanced vision.

“Oh, his eyes are open! Thank the goddess. How are you feeling?” The corpse is looming over him now, glazed over blue eyes scanning over him to see if he's okay. 

“Oh dear, your eyes are… strange.” Geralt tenses as cold hands touch his cheeks, one frozen skin, the other hand, cold bones. “You have cat eyes!” Geralt freezes at the sudden giggle at the corpse’s realization of his eyes being different from other humans.

“Who knew Witchers could be so adorable?”

Geralt sits up, scaring the corpse, making him jump back. “Where am I?”

“Um… you aren’t going to like it.” The corpse looks down, rocking a bit nervously.

Geralt narrows his eyes threateningly. “Where. Am I?” 

The corpse blinks and chuckles, catching Geralt off guard. “In the Land of the Dead. You really think that you can hurt or kill something that is already dead?”

Geralt looks around nervously. “The Land of the Dead?”

“Yep! Didn’t you hear me?”

Geralt looks at the corpse, fearing the worst. “Am I dead?”

The corpse reels back in shock, shaking his head. “Gods no! We may be dead, but we aren’t monsters!”

“You all just kidnapped me!”

“That wasn’t my intention at all! I just wanted to visit the upstairs, and everyone here seems to think that everyone I talk to is a potential suitor.” The corpse looks down, holding his arm with his skeleton hand.

“Upstairs, what do you mean by-Wait what? They want me to marry you?”

“You’re a little slow on the uptake. I’m not so sure that they didn’t hit you too hard now.” The corpse approaches Geralt to check Geralt’s wound on his temple. He looks surprised when he sees that it’s completely healed.

Geralt backs away, rightfully nervous about what happened to him and being in the Land of the Dead. “I’m a Witcher, like you said. I’m not adorable and I have an extreme healing factor.” 

His wandering eyes spot his things in the corner of the room and he gets up, walking to it. “Okay, so I can now agree a bit, you aren’t adorable and I wish I had that healing factor when I was alive. Though it probably wouldn’t have helped me sadly. But it’s the thought that counts!”

Geralt huffs a bit as he puts his armor on. He doesn’t want to be caught off guard again. “You sure like to talk, don’t you?”

The corpse straightens up and smiles. “I feel like I didn’t talk enough when I was alive and I have the rest of eternity to talk now to make up for it! My name is Jaskier by the way. Formerly known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove.”

Geralt freezes at that name. “Julian Pankratz? I thought you ran away from your wedding.”

And now Jaskier freezes. “Please, call me Jaskier. And that’s not what happened to me. Trust me. I’d know.”

Geralt looks at Jaskier, a little saddened. 

“I’m… just gonna go downstairs, hang out in the tavern. You can head down whenever you like. Or… not at all. That’s fine too.” Jaskier turns around, walking out.

Geralt tightens his chestplate, looking at the damage on it. Geralt sighs and looks at his arm so he can put on his arm brace. _Juli- no he asked you to call him Jaskier- Jaskier really didn’t want to hurt you. He obviously didn’t want this to happen. So why were you so hostile and suspicious of him?_

He walks down the stairs to the tavern after strapping his swords to his back. Geralt can hear the hush that falls over the crowd before they smile at him. Wait, why can he tell literal skeletons are smiling? Must be this place, the Land of the Dead. Might be good to stay here and study it.

Geralt spots Jaskier in the crowd and he’s clearly the center of attention. For one, he is rather eye-catching among the dead denizens of this land, most likely because he seems to shine some actual life into the room. He’s so animated, dramatic with his hands, his voice easily drawing attention, he’d be a great bard, just like he wanted before he died.

Geralt takes a breath and then walks to Jaskier’s table and sits next to him, head held high.”Oh! You came down! Wonderful! I can start introducing you to people! This is Bonejangles, this is-”

“Jaskier.”

“Not a people person?” Jaskier smiles, chuckling.

Geralt hmms and orders a drink. The bartender… who is just a head being carried by cockroaches… sends someone over to serve his drink.

“So… Jaskier… What happened to you?” 

Jaskier tenses and looks down at his mismatched hands, twiddling his thumbs. “Well… that’s kind of a long story.” Jaskier chuckles awkwardly .

Bonejangles, at least, Geralt thinks he’s Bonejangles, he wasn’t really paying attention, smiles and looks at them. “And what a story it is.” The entire tavern falls silent, looking at him. “A tragic tale of romance, passion,” Bonejangles leans down in front of Geralt’s face, smiling. “And a murder most foul.” Thankfully, Bonejangles turns away and faces the band. “Hit it boys.”

Geralt groans as music starts to play. He grabs his sword and slams it into the table with a resounding THUNK. Everything stops and everyone looks at him.

“I want to hear him tell it. Not a romanticized version of it for song.” Geralt growls and he notes that everyone is staring at him in shock.

“Well, okay. Everyone,” Jaskier looks around at everyone, smiling. “You can all go back to what you were doing. Bonejangles, I’m sorry, but you aren’t going to be able to test out your new song.”

“I’ve been waiting for five years to play it!” Bonejangles clicks and Geralt is just surprised a skeleton can even talk. They don’t even have voice boxes.

“I know I know. But he wants me to tell it, dear Bonejangles.” Jaskier pats Bonejangles hand and smiles. “It’s okay. You can perform it later for us!” That seems to perk Bonejangles up and then Jaskier turns to Geralt.

Geralt pulls his sword out of the table and sheathes it, waiting for Jaskier to begin.

“Well… I suppose I should begin with…” Jaskier takes a useless breath and looks at Geralt. “I was fifteen. I was betrothed to a Lord of Cintra. On our wedding night… he asked me to meet him at a quarter to three under a cherry tree on a hill.”

Geralt looks at Jaskier in a small bit of shock. “You were fifteen? When you were married?”

Jaskier nods, a little sad. “I’m twenty now if you’re still counting after death. Anyways, I went in this,” he gestures at his clothes. “Just without the skirt. I added that when I was down here. Wanted to play around. What was I saying? Oh right. I also was wearing the jewelry he gifted to me as he asked. I waited and waited and it seemed like he wasn’t gonna come.

“Eventually, he came up the hill in all black. Not black black like your clothes and armor, but a red black. I was almost relieved to see him, then… he started saying things that scared me. He was saying things like how I’d never have to worry about anything anymore, how I would never have to wait.” Jaskier looks down, vaguely aware of how the entire tavern is listening to him. “He pulled out a knife and in my haste to back away for obvious reasons, I tripped over a tree root and landed on my back.

“He stepped onto my chest and it was so hard for me to breath. He said… he said he wanted to enjoy what he was going to do to me.” Jaskier looks up at Geralt, eyes wide and innocent. Geralt can feel himself cringe at the description before he can stop himself. “He lifted a leg up and then… _slammed_ a heel down onto my chest. I could feel something break and apparently he heard it too and he kept going. Just over and over until I reached up to stop him. He avoided my hands and slammed his heel into my collarbone and broke it.

“I managed to grab his ankle and push him off, and somehow managed to fight through the pain and get up, running into the nearby forest. It hurt so much but… I had to keep running. I didn’t lose him for very long. He found me and caught me, slamming me against a tree. He stabbed me here,” Jaskier pauses to point at this chest wound, then quickly drags his finger up his chest to his shoulder. “And then ripped the blade up. It nicked my broken collarbone and I could feel the blood pour out…

“He held the knife up, and smiled, admiring the blade and my blood on it. ‘You wanna know something?’ he said, ‘Your blood looks black in the moonlight, just like the others.’” Jaskier looks down, having to stop for a second to calm himself.

“Sick bastard…” Geralt growls and clenches his teeth.

“After that… he stabbed me in the stomach and _twisted_ the blade. I was starting to faint from other pain or blood loss, but I’m not really sure. I thought I was dying at that moment. But I wasn’t. I woke up when he was burying me. Alive.”

Geralt tenses and his eyes widen.

“I started to claw myself out of the dirt before I suffocated, and my left hand breached the ground first. He saw the wedding ring he gave me and… and he cut my finger off.” Jaskier holds his left hand up and now it’s apparent that Jaskier is missing his ring finger, just a chunk of bone remaining there. “After he took my finger… he left me to choke to death on the dirt in my shallow grave.”

Geralt looks at Jaskier in shock. _How can anyone go through that and still be an optimistic, happy person?_

Jaskier smiles weakly. “Not a pretty story. I honestly prefer Bonejangles telling it.” Geralt looks down, in his own head.

After a few minutes of silence from the both of them, Geralt mumbles, “I can understand that.”

“But it’s over now and I find it very nice down here!”

_That makes one of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I typed most of that in a few hours! Super excited about how I managed to do that. Guess when an idea comes up, you do whatever it takes to get it down!
> 
> Honestly was having trouble getting the chapter started, then I got into the swing of things and it just spilled out like ink on a page!


	4. Jaskier/Corpse Bard Design

Author's Note: Hey guys! This is a chapter where there is no story! Just wanted to show you all what Jaskier looks like in this AU. I've been having issues with motivation and ideas, I know what plot points I want, but I can't get it on paper. I'm currently between plot points and just having a hard time getting into a groove.


	5. Meeting Up With Roach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I felt bad about not updating with actual story last week, but here's a short chapter with Jaskier, Geralt, Roach, and a wandering bone hand. I've been having issues with getting into a rhythm and actually having the motivation to write. But this is the next part of the story in a massive plot line I have. Hope you enjoy!

Geralt sighs to himself, listening to Bonejangles sing, watching Jaskier dance with the denizens of the Land of the Dead. The food here, though they don’t need food, is magic-based. Geralt assumes that they are just used to eating and drinking, but they can’t digest anything as they are, well... dead. So magic is the next best option. All the energy from eating and drinking without the need to relieve one’s self or the issue of digestion.

 _It’s genius. It really is._ Geralt thinks, looking down at the table, nursing his magical ale and plate of food. _Maybe it would be the same with Roach…_ Geralt looks up in shock and gets up. He weaves throughout the dancing corpse crowd, face serious. Geralt puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and he turns to Geralt.

“Jaskier. Take me to Roach.” Geralt’s eyes are narrowed, serious.

Jaskier smiles and nods. “Okay. I was going to take you to your horse earlier but I got distracted.” Jaskier giggles a bit and then starts to walk out, Geralt following him. Jaskier is humming, skipping a bit.

 _How can a corpse be so happy? He died in a horrible, gruesome way and he’s skipping._ Geralt sighs and walks behind Jaskier, lagging a bit behind. He recognizes the song Jaskier is humming from a song written a few decades ago but doesn’t comment on it.

It really is pretty down here, so colorful, so happy. Full of joy and peace. No one comments on the Witcher walking past, no one comments on the eyes, the scars, the pure black armor. Geralt could get used to this. If he didn’t have obligations upstairs, as Jaskier calls it.

When Jaskier stops in front of a building, Geralt almost bumps into him, too deep in thought about the differences between the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead.

“Okay! Here’s the stables! There are a few horses decaying in there, and many more skeletal horses, but they all are happy here. They can go for a ride and- Oh where are you going? I wasn’t done.” Jaskier watches Geralt push past him to look for Roach. “Oh right, your horse. Sorry, I just… wanted to talk to you before we went in.” Jaskier follows him, a little sad.

“I just want to see my horse. Make sure she’s okay.” Geralt growls, embarrassed that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.

Jaskier perks up. “She really is a beauty! She did kick a few people to pieces and I can’t say I can blame her. There have been a lot of changes in a short amount of time and some of us do look very scary because of our decay but-”

Geralt sighs in relief at the sight of Roach, up against the wall, as far away from the other dead horses as possible. “Roach.” Roach looks at Geralt and trots up to him, flicking her tail at some of the other wandering horses to get them to go away. 

She pushes her head into Geralt’s chest and Geralt pets her, putting his forehead against hers. Geralt mumbles calming words to her, watching her ears flick around to take in sounds. The scent of decay wraps around them, muted by flowery scents, probably in the water.

Jaskier smiles and hums to himself, watching this, decaying heart swelling. Who knew a Witcher could be so soft with their horse? 

“Where are her things?” Geralt growls at him, gravelly voice making the other horses cringe, those with ears lower them. Jaskier looks up at the growly Witcher, smiling.

Jaskier grabs Roach’s saddle and bit and his bone arm pops off, dropping the heavy saddle. “Oh dear, that isn’t good.” Jaskier lets go of the saddle and bit and then pops his arm back on. 

Jaskier looks up at Geralt, giggling at his horrified face. “What the fuck.”

“Decay.” Jaskier smiles and shrugs. “Makes the joints loose. Also makes them easy to pop off.” Jaskier grips his bone hand and then pops it off easily, and waves it around. If a Witcher could go pale, then Geralt just did. “And it can operate as a separate entity.” Jaskier sets it down and then watches Geralt.

Geralt yelps when the hand on the ground begins to crawl over to him. “No! Stop that!” Geralt runs away from the quick hand, resisting the urge to stomp on it. 

Jaskier is giggling and grabs the hand, popping it back onto his wrist. “Okay okay, sorry. I accidentally dropped her things. They’re too heavy for me.”

Geralt is embarrassed, and if he could flush, he would. “T-thank you.” Geralt grabs the saddle and her bit before tacking Roach gently.


	6. Missing Family on a Horseback Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I've been struggling with motivation, but I managed to type up something small. At least I'm moving the story forward.

Hooves clop on cobblestone streets, one living horse ridden by a Witcher and a skeleton horse with a modified saddle with its decaying rider. Jaskier is chattering happily, talking with his hands. Geralt is trying to ignore the constant chatter, bewildered by how the dead can be so… lively. Considering what happened to Jaskier, it would be acceptable to be a morose mess, vying for vengeance over what happened to him.

But here Jaskier is, happily talking about how life here is amazing, relaxing. Geralt is silent, examining his surroundings. Corpses happily talking, skeletons walking around, smiles everywhere. This place… it’s so colorful, so full of life. Upstairs, the Land of the Living, where everyone lives before they die, is bland compared to here. Dead. It’s ironic.

Geralt could enjoy it here, despite the fact that he was kidnapped. But then what about his brothers? Vesemir. The arranged marriage to that Yennefer of Vengerberg.

“Jaskier. I… I have a question.”

Jaskier looks up, smiling. “Yes?” 

“Can… can I go upstairs? To say goodbye to my brothers.” Geralt looks down, a little embarrassed.

Jaskier frowns a bit, swallowing nervously. “Well… it will be a… little difficult. We can’t go upstairs for long. Mainly because I’ll start to decay much faster and I’ll… stink like death. Literally. But, we can.”

Geralt nods. “Where do we need to go?”

Jaskier looks at Geralt, empty, dead eyes staring into Geralt’s. “We need to go to the library. There’s a spell book in there we can use. And maybe a way I can control my decay? Or at least hide the scent?” 

Jaskier looks deep in thought as he gets off his horse, leading it back to the stables.

Geralt looks at Roach as she watches Jaskier. Over the ride with him, she’s grown attached to him, most likely just enjoying the chatter because it’s so different from the norm. Geralt pets her mane gently and gets off her back, walking back to the stables. 

Geralt is quiet as he walks, happy that Roach has at least relaxed, because this… might be a permanent stay, a wonderful retirement for a Witcher.


End file.
